


If You Can

by mokuyoubi



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Top Hannibal, can be viewed as dub-con, sexy hide and seek, straight up fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 14:42:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5420942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mokuyoubi/pseuds/mokuyoubi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal is chasing Will, and fucks him when he finds him. Really nothing else to it. Inspired by this <a href="http://grahamewill.tumblr.com/post/129589270212">gifset!</a></p><p>I seriously could not get this out of my head. I kept seeing those eyes rolling back into his head and the droplets dripping from his face...and, yeah. So, this happened…I don’t even know what’s going on here, so please don’t ask me. </p><p>This is Version 1.0--I still have to do Will riding Hannicock...</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Can

**Author's Note:**

> As the author, it is not my intent for this to be viewed as dub-con, but I can see how some might feel that way. Proceed with caution.

Will skids around the corner and through the cracked opening into the bathroom. He squeezes his stomach in tight to make it through without nudging the door and presses his back against the wall, holds his breath and tries to calm the wild rhythm of his heart. It’s all he can hear at first, but he strains his ears, listening for the soft, socked footfalls that he knows are in pursuit.

After a moment, there comes the sound of Hannibal’s tread--long, purposeful strides down the hall. He pauses here and there, and Will can hear the creak of protest from old floorboards and squeaky hinges. Will’s lungs feel as though they might burst, strained past the point of his endurance, but he waits until Hannibal has passed by the bathroom and continued around the corner before he exhales as silently as he can, in relief.

Then Hannibal stops, and Will can hear him inhaling through his nose. Will curses silently, all too aware of the sweat pouring in rivulets down his cheeks and nose, dripping from his curls and running along his spine to pool in the small of his back. He sags against the curve of the sink in defeat, a moment before the door bursts open.

Will’s head jerks up, his eyes meeting Hannibal’s in the mirror above the sink. The blood from the wound on his forehead has trickled down over his eyebrow, and if possible, he looks more dangerous than ever. He stands in the doorway, hulking, larger than life, drawing great, deep breaths that expand the barrel of his chest.

“How did you expect this to end?” Hannibal asks.

There’s a straight-razor on the curve of the tub. Will calculates his distance from it, and Hannibal’s distance from him. The chance that he’ll get to it before Hannibal gets to him is slim, but Will isn’t ready to give up just yet. He and Hannibal move in the same split instant. Will’s fingers just brush against the cool silver before Hannibal catches him around the waist and hauls him off his feet.

Will lets out a high, bereft cry, struggling against Hannibal’s hold on him. But Hannibal doesn’t take him far, just plants him back on his feet in front of the sink. They stand there, panting, Hannibal’s solid weight bending Will into the hard porcelain of the basin, arms like steel bands holding Will firmly.

The moment stretches long and silent between them, and Will flexes his arms, testing Hannibal’s strength. Sudden inspiration strikes him and he throws his head back with all his might, at the same time shifting his feet wide. Hannibal dodges the headbutt with a grunt and kicks Will’s legs open wide, knocking him off balance. He falls forward, unable to catch himself, relying on Hannibal’s hold. The wide stance, hips pushed back, make him all too aware of the hardness digging into the curve of his ass. He can’t name the sound he makes, starting out as breathless surprise, turning into a low, rumbling groan.

“You set the terms, and I’ve played by your rules, and I’ve caught you, fair and square,” Hannibal purrs, close to his ear. Some of the tension in Will’s frame begins to ease at the words. It’s true, after all. Hannibal sounds very pleased when he next speaks. “Now, dear Will, it’s time I claim my prize.”

Hannibal loosens his arms by degrees, until it becomes clear Will is no longer about to try to escape. Will lets his hands close around the cool, slick surface of the basin as Hannibal rises up behind him. One of Hannibal’s hands presses down between his shoulderblades, holding him in place while with his other he jerks Will’s boxers roughly over his hips and the swell of his ass, down just enough to expose his opening to the cool air.

“Ffff….” Will shudders at the first brush of Hannibal’s fingers against his hole, warm and dry. His hips jerk away and muscles clench tight at the thought of the intrusion, but Hannibal just touches him gently, stroking back and forth, circling the bunch of muscles, eliciting a series of twitches. The force holding Will down lets up and he straightens a little at a time, testing. 

The touch is unsettling, but not unpleasant. Will thinks he’s almost grown used to it when suddenly there is a gust of warm breath against the his ass and Hannibal’s hands are prying his cheeks apart, replacing the fingers with his tongue. Will’s eyes roll up into his head and flutter closed. He can distantly hear himself whining, sound rising above Hannibal’s own low, hungry moans. 

All Will’s attention is devoted to the hot tongue spearing him open, the lips closed around the rim of his hole, nipping and sucking and making the most obscene sounds. He rocks back on Hannibal’s face and can’t find purchase on the slippery porcelain. His hands scramble until he finds the brass fixtures and squeeze tight, holding on for dear life as Hannibal eats him out. It certainly isn’t the imagine Will’s mind conjured, when they’d made their agreement, but he finds this far preferable, all things considered.

Between his spread legs, his dick is hard and heavy, brushing against the shocking cold of the sink every now and then. Even with that brief point of contact, he feels startlingly close to the precipice. He can feel the blood throbbing in his cock, in time with the beating of his heart, and when Hannibal finally sinks two spit-slick fingers inside him, a rush of precum spills down his length.

“Oh, oh _fuck_ ,” Will cries out. He arches his back and thrusts his hips down, trying to take more of Hannibal, deeper.

Hannibal chuckles against his ass, tongue still plunged deep inside. It’s the strangest sensation Will’s ever experienced, sending shivers running up his spine. Hannibal draws back to press a kiss against the meat of Will’s ass. “So impatient,” Hannibal says, then bites down on the same spot, hard, even as his fingers find Will’s prostate and rub back and forth over the tight bundle of nerves.

Will’s whole body draws tight, on the edge of cumming. He barely has time to process all the contrasting sensations of pleasure and pain before Hannibal straightens up behind him. Will meets his gaze again in the mirror, finds his eyes black with ecstasy, and brimming with such a contradiction of emotions, Will isn’t ready to process it all. He watches, jaw dropped open, breath coming fast, as Hannibal reaches down between them. He never takes his eyes from Will’s as he guides his cock to Will’s opening and shoves inside.

Will goes up on his toes at the force of it, trying to escape the sudden, burning pain. He feels as though he’s being split in half, and he squeezes his eyes shut tight. His teeth bite down hard on his lip, until he tastes blood, but it doesn’t ease that deep ache. 

Hannibal is relentless, and buries himself with a series of jerky thrusts, until he’s in to the hilt. And then he’s still, covering Will’s back with his warm weight. It only takes a short while for Will to begin to breathe in tandem with him--inhaling through his nose, holding it for a moment, then letting it out in a long rush. He begins to settle into it, feels his body opening to accommodate this new intrusion.

When Hannibal begins to move again, Will can feel each drag of skin and muscle. His nerves are alight, and at this point, it doesn’t matter how much of it is from pleasure and how much is pain. It’s so much deeper than anything he’s experienced before, base and animal and _good_ , just another aspect of what they’ve shared so far, and upon reflection, maybe he should have realised this was inevitable.

With a snarl, Will rocks back on Hannibal’s cock faster, urgent and needy. Hannibal takes it for the invitation it is, and starts fucking him in earnest. His fingers dig into Will’s hips, sure to leave vivid bruises, and he puts all his strength into each punishing jab of his cock. Though Will’s erection had flagged at that first rough thrust, it’s painfully hard now, waiting for the slightest excuse to go off.

Hannibal nuzzles at Will’s jaw and thoughtlessly, Will lifts his chin in submission to his questing. Deadly teeth scrape gently along the stubble on his throat, turning into a series of sucking kiss. Will whimpers and reaches blindly to cover Hannibal’s hand with his own on the rise of his pelvic bone. It only takes the slightest pressure for Hannibal to move his hand inward, down the vee of Will’s thigh. 

Will hisses out a harsh, “ _Yessss_ ,” when Hannibal finally wraps a hand around his cock and begins to stroke relentlessly in time with the rhythm of his hips. He’s already sticky-damp from the precum that leaks steadily from the head each time Hannibal’s well-positioned thrusts hit his prostate.

When Will blinks blearily at his own reflection, he barely recognises himself--eyes glazed over with pleasure, mouth wet and swollen, lip caught between his teeth, cheeks flushed fever red, purple-pink bruises in the shape of Hannibal’s mouth down the length of his throat. Hannibal’s bowed head raises just enough to share in the vision. 

Will feels himself shaking apart at what he sees. The dark, fathomless creature that he has come to expect in Hannibal’s eyes is gone. In this moment, Hannibal is utterly exposed and utterly knowable, and in his eyes is hunger and love, blatant and unapologetic. Will cums in thick spurts all over Hannibal’s hand and the basin, each pulse as powerful as the last, until he can give no more and he’s left, shaking, to Hannibal’s tender mercy.

As if the sight of Will in the throes of orgasmic pleasure were enough to sate him, Hannibal follows him over that edge. Will’s body grips him tight, squeezes Hannibal’s pleasure from him. It is an almost inhuman sound that Hannibal makes as he cums, pumping his release deep inside Will with his last, shuddering thrusts.

They rest there together, holding one another up. Will can smell the sharp tang of blood and sweat, their mingled scents. He isn’t even remotely surprised to see Hannibal lift his own hand to his mouth, licking Will’s cum from his fingers, though the stirring in his gut at the sight is a bit of a revelation. As is the heavy feeling of satisfaction that spreads through his limbs, the absolute _rightness_ of it all settling over him. Had there ever been any other way for all of this to fall out between them?

“You see, now?” Hannibal asks, between heavy breaths.

Will nods. “I see,” he agrees.


End file.
